The Highest Bidder

He was right in front of her. His dark hair falling over his forehead. His brown eyes, with those gold flecks, were churning with emotion and his jaw was so tight, she saw the muscles there twitching.

“No way are you quitting.”

“You can’t stop me.”

“Watch me.” He grabbed her and held her in place, though she squirmed and wriggled and tried to break free. Finally, in desperation, Charlie drew her right foot back and kicked him in the shins.

He yelped, and that was satisfying, but he didn’t let her go, and that was infuriating.

“Dammit, will you just hold still for a second and listen to me?”

“Why should I?” she shouted. “I heard what George said to you and more importantly what you didn’t say back.”

“I didn’t have a chance to say anything. I saw you there and then you were running—”

“What would you have said, Vance?” She threw the words at him as a challenge. “Would you have denied it? Could you?”

He didn’t say anything, but the flicker of regret on his features said plenty.

Pain lanced through her. “I wondered, you know, why you were being nice to me. Remember, I even asked you. You didn’t answer me, but then how could you?” She shook her head in disgust. “Not easy to say, ‘I’m seducing your secrets out of you, Charlie—that okay with you?’”

“All right, fine,” he grumbled. “That was how it started. I think. Hell, I don’t even know for sure anymore.”

“Right.”

“I’m telling you the truth, Charlie.” He let her go, shoved both hands through his hair and said, “Ever since you walked in here, I haven’t been able to think straight. At first I thought it was your hair distracting me. Or maybe those damn shoes.” He shook his head again as if trying to understand all this himself.

“But it wasn’t any one thing at all. It was just you, Charlie. Your laughter. Your eagerness to learn. Your love of … everything.” He choked out a laugh. “You sneaked up on me. And yeah, I thought it would be a good idea, to take you out a couple times, romance you a little. See if I could figure out if you were a spy or not.”

“Romance me. At the Zoo Diner?”

“See?” He threw both hands high and let them drop to his sides again. His expression was baffled. “See what you do to me? I sat in the middle of that toddler hell and actually had a good time. I didn’t expect that. Didn’t expect you. What you did to me. How you made me feel. How you made everything better.”

Charlie wished she could believe him, but how could she? How could she ever trust him again? She felt the sting of tears in her eyes, but blinked them back. “You were using me. Just as Henry did.”

“No,” he said firmly.

“Yes,” she said. “But I’m done being used. By you. By anyone. I quit, Mr. Waverly. I’ll be by this weekend to pick up Jake’s and my things.”

“Charlie—”

She walked past him, head held high. He didn’t follow and that was good. Because Charlie didn’t know if she had the strength to walk away from him twice.

Vance shut himself up in his condo and didn’t speak to anyone. He didn’t go to work. Didn’t return his brother’s calls and refused to give a flying damn about Waverly’s or anything else.

His house was so quiet, it was driving him crazy. He stood in the doorway of Jake’s room and looked at the empty crib, feeling a similar emptiness in his own chest. The room still smelled like baby and Jake’s toys were still scattered across the floor. He bent down and picked up the red rubber ball and idly tossed it from hand to hand.

Then he wandered across the hall to the master bedroom. The room he hadn’t been able to sleep in since Charlie left. How the hell could he? She’d stamped herself all over the room. The T-shirt she slept in. Her hairbrush on the bathroom counter. Her slippers on the floor beside the bed. Her pillow that smelled like peaches.

The damn woman was everywhere but where she belonged.

He tossed the ball to the floor, stalked down the hall to the living room and out onto the terrace. He didn’t look at the chaise because recalling that particular memory at the moment might just finish him off. Instead, he stared at the river and mentally went over the plan that had begun forming when Charlie called that morning to say she would be at his place at one o’clock to pick up her things.

“I know what I want now,” he said, squinting into the sunlight dancing on the surface of the river. “And what I want, I get.”

He’d given Charlie two days to cool down. But when she showed up there at one to pack up her stuff, they were going to talk. Well, he was going to talk and she was going to listen. If he had to tie her to a chair.

The doorbell rang an hour later and Vance cursed. He wasn’t completely set up yet. He needed five more minutes. It figured the woman would show up early.

He walked barefoot across the room, his worn jeans dropping low along his hips, his bare chest warm from being out on the terrace collecting every damn flower he owned.

Yanking the door open, he stared down at her and he felt that hard, solid jolt of lust and what he recognized now as … love. She looked so damn small. Her hair was in a long braid hanging down the center of her back. She wore a bright blue blouse that did amazing things for her eyes and her khaki shorts stopped midthigh. Her sandals had daisies on the toes and her nails were painted a rich crimson.

Everything about her made him want to gather her up and hold on so tight she’d never get free. But first, she had to listen.

“I won’t bother you for long, Vance,” she said, stepping past him into the great room. “I’m just going to throw our things into the boxes we used when we came here—you still have them, don’t you?”

“If I said no would it stop you?”

“No,” she said sadly as she turned and headed for the bedrooms.

“Where’s Jake, Charlie?” He stopped her with one hand on her arm and that simple touch sent a bolt of heat dancing throughout his body. He’d been so cold without her that the heat was staggering. God, how could he have been so stupid to have waited so long to see the truth? How could he have risked this? Risked her?

She looked down at his hand on her arm, then lifted her gaze to his. “With Katie. Don’t, Vance. Don’t make it harder on both of us. Just let me pack up, okay?”

He let her go and followed her down the hall to the master bedroom. She opened the door and stopped dead on the threshold.

Exactly the kind of response he’d been hoping for.

He’d dragged every one of those pots of flowers in from the terrace. His bedroom looked like a tropical garden. The blue duvet on the bed had been sprinkled with rose petals and there was a bottle of champagne chilling in a silver bucket on the bedside table. The drapes were drawn and candles lit and soft jazz poured from the stereo.

“What is this?”

“This is seduction, Charlie,” he said, satisfaction plain in his tone.

“Vance …”

He turned her around, hands first on her shoulders, then sliding up to cup her face. His thumbs stroked across her cheekbones and caught a single tear that rolled from her eye. “Just listen to me, okay? Give me that?”

She swallowed hard, and nodded.

Encouraged, he took her hand and drew her into the bedroom, seating her on the edge of the bed. She perched there uneasily, as if ready to bolt. He’d have only one chance to get this right. Or his entire life was screwed.

No pressure, as Roark would have said.

He took a breath and blew it out, scraped one hand across his face and finally forced himself to meet her eyes. “You were right. I did start out to romance you for all the wrong reasons.”

She frowned.

“But that changed so fast, Charlie.” He laughed at himself. “Sitting in that godawful diner, listening to the howls of all of those kids and looking into your smiling eyes, I started falling.”

“Vance.”

“No more lies, Charlie,” he said, stepping up close to her. He cupped her cheek in his palm briefly before backing away again, because he knew he had to have a clear head to do this right. And touching Charlie fogged up his brain like nothing else. “I didn’t know what was happening and when I finally figured it out, I told myself it wasn’t happening. Because that was easier than risking what I felt for you.

“See, I didn’t know what the hell love was, Charlie. Until you.”

She gasped a little and folded her hands together in her lap, squeezing until the knuckles went white.

“I’ve never even used the word before, so how could I believe what I was feeling was real?” He reached up and shoved one hand through his hair, then looked around the room at what he’d made of it. “From the first minute you walked into my office, I felt … different. You woke me up, Charlie. Made me see the world around me. Made me realize everything I’d been missing.”

“Vance,” she said softly.

“No, don’t talk yet,” he ordered, stabbing one finger in the air at her. “You said everything you had to say the other day in the office and I don’t blame you. I was a jerk and you were hurt. But I never was using you, Charlie. Don’t think that. Even when I didn’t consciously know it, I loved you.”

She sucked in a gulp of air and another tear coursed along her cheek. Vance’s heart fisted in his chest.

“Don’t cry. I can’t take it when you cry.” He walked up to her again, pulled her up off the bed and looked down into her eyes. “I love you so much.” He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and said it again. “I love you. Believe me, Charlie. I will always love you.”

“I do,” she whispered, her mouth curving in that delectable smile that turned Vance’s insides to mush.

He grinned and let loose a relieved sigh. “Now there’s a phrase I want you to get comfortable with.”

“What?”

“I do. Two words I’m going to want you to repeat as soon as I find a judge to marry us.”

“Marry?” She stared up at him, dumbfounded. “You want to marry me?”

“What did you think this was all about?” he asked, laughing. “Think I dragged all these damn flowers in here to ask you to go steady or something? Think I’ve got champagne chilled because we’re going to shack up?”

“I—I—”

“I never thought I’d see this,” he said with another quick grin. “She’s speechless.”

“Sort of. Vance, remember, I’m a package deal.”

“And I want the whole package,” he told her as his heart thudded painfully in his chest. “You and Jake. If you’ll let me, I’ll adopt him. I already feel like he’s mine.”

“Adopt—” Her mouth dropped open and she slapped one hand to it.

“And I want more kids, Charlie. At least three or four.”

“Four—”

“I bought your house.”

“You what?”

“That house you love in Forest Hills Gardens? I bought it.”

“How? When? Why?”

He grinned. “Three excellent questions. Let’s just say I went over there last night and made them an offer they couldn’t refuse. The house is ours, Charlie. We can move in next month. All you have to do is say yes.”

“You bought the house?” She was stunned, blinking as if she half expected to find herself in a dream with someone waking her up any moment.

“Charlie, I want to give you and Jake everything. I want us to be a family. I want to say I love you every day for the rest of my life.”

“I can’t believe you bought that house.”

“You loved it.”

“Yes, but …”

“Charlie,” he said, his voice an urgent whisper as he fought for the thing he had wanted most in his life, “it’s just a building. Until you say yes and live in it with me, it’s just bricks and mortar and stone and—You’re the heart, Charlie. The heart of me. The heart of that house. Without you, we’re both incomplete.”

“I do love you so much, Vance,” she finally whispered as if she said it too loudly, it would shatter the moment.

“Say it again,” he urged, pulling her closer.

“I love you. I love you.”

He bent his forehead to hers. “God, that sounds good.”

She laughed shortly and looked around at the wonder he’d created just for her. “Vance, I can’t believe you did all this….”

“Hey!” He stopped, kissed her hard and fast. “There’s one more thing. Almost forgot. If you hadn’t been early, I’d have had it here. Can’t believe I left out this part. Amazing. Woman, you completely destroy my mind whenever I’m near you.” He pushed her onto the bed again, took a step and said, “Stay right there. I’ll only be gone a minute.”

She laughed and the wonderful sound of it followed him down the hall into the great room. He swung the painting over the hearth out of the way, opened the vault hidden behind it and reached inside for the surprise he’d left to the end, just in case he needed it.

Then he was back in the bedroom and holding out a flat, black velvet case to her. “I got this for you. I didn’t know it at the time. I had my representative call in and buy it. For an investment. But I think, even my subconscious realized that it was meant for you. And for me.”

“What?” She tipped open the box, gasped and said, “Oh my God! The queen of Cadria’s necklace?” She lifted her gaze to his. “Are you crazy?”

He laughed and dropped onto the bed beside her. “Only for you, Charlie. That necklace promises a long and happy marriage. And that’s what I want. With you.”

“You are crazy,” Charlie whispered as she dragged the tip of one finger across a ruby surface. Then she carefully closed the box and looked into Vance’s eyes. “And I love you being this crazy.”

“Show me,” he said.

And she did.

Three days later at Waverly’s …

“Ms. Richardson?” Kendra said into the intercom. “There’s a call for you on line 3.”

“Who is it?”

“He claims to be Sheikh Raif Khouri of Rayas. He says to tell you it’s about the Gold Heart statue.”

Ann felt a cold chill snake along her spine. Slowly, she reached for the phone with the same enthusiasm she would have shown for grabbing a live cobra.

When she punched into the line, she said smoothly, “Hello, this is Ann Richardson.”

“Ah, Ms. Richardson, thank you for taking my call.”

“Not at all. How can I help you?” Her mouth was dry and her stomach was doing twists and spins. Nerves jangled through every part of her body, but she kept her voice steady.

“I believe I am the one who can help you.”

“In what way?”

There was a long pause and then the man on the other end of the line sighed before saying, “It is about the Gold Heart statue. What I have to say may save you and your company a great deal of embarrassment.”

“I don’t understand. Is there a problem?”

“I would think so,” he told her, voice clipped with just an undercurrent of anger and suspicion. “The statue you have in your possession is either stolen—or a fake.”

The bottom dropped out of Ann’s world. This couldn’t be true. The press surrounding the acquisition of the statue had been global. Everyone in the world knew that Waverly’s had the Gold Heart. If they were found to have obtained it illegally—or, worse yet, to have been trying to palm off a fake as the real thing …

“That’s ridiculous,” Ann said, standing up since she couldn’t sit still another minute. “My experts tell me the statue is genuine. And as for it being stolen—”

“Two of the three statues in existence are now missing,” Sheikh Raif interrupted. “One was stolen over a hundred years ago—”

“And that is the one we have.”

“So you say. But since that statue has been missing for a hundred years, it seems unlikely that Waverly’s would have found it, don’t you think?”

Ann didn’t say anything.

“The other Gold Heart,” he continued, “was stolen just weeks ago from the palace. This is the statue I believe you have now. If so, I must insist on its return to Rayas. Immediately.”

Ann dropped back into her desk chair, completely exhausted. She couldn’t seem to catch her breath and her heart was beating so fast that she was surprised it hadn’t simply flown out of her chest.

This was a nightmare.

Roark had sworn the statue was legitimate, so she knew it wasn’t a fake. Could he really have found the long-missing statue, even though it had eluded discovery for more than a century? Or had he somehow been given a stolen artifact?

“Ms. Richardson?”

“Yes, I’m here,” she said.

“I’m afraid we have a problem that we must solve. Together.”

Oh, this was a problem, she thought as she listened to the sheikh telling her exactly what his country expected of her and Waverly’s.

She had to get hold of Roark. Had to know if the statue was real and how he’d come by it. She needed the provenance to be clear and unmistakable.

Otherwise, the scandal that would break would be Waverly’s undoing. And all that she had worked for her entire adult life would come crashing down around her.

Preview

What is the history of the Gold Heart statue? Turn the page for an exclusive story by USA TODAY bestselling author Barbara Dunlop and find out. Then look for the next installment of THE HIGHEST BIDDER, EXQUISITE ACQUISITIONS, by Charlene Sands, wherever Harlequin Books are sold.

The Gold Heart, Part 1

Rayas, 1762

Princess Laila Adan Bajal was about to lose her virginity. She knew it was her duty. She understood the basic mechanics of the act. And she realized that her submission would protect her country from war. The only thing she couldn’t figure out was how to stop it from happening.

Her marriage to Prince Tariq Nuri was less than three hours old. In the master chamber of the Tal Palace, a gift to the couple from her father, the king, she’d been bathed, rubbed with jasmine oil, and dressed in the finest silks by her servants, before being left alone to await the man who’d done nothing but scowl at her since they’d met three days ago.

He knew she was unwilling. He didn’t care. Why would he? She was a means to an end. She’d warm his bed, bear his children, and provide an alliance between her beloved Rayas and his neighboring country of Al-Kumain. Her father had been given a choice: provide a daughter for the warrior prince, or lose his kingdom to the marauding hordes, who had been rising up against the Ottoman Empire and terrorizing the Arabian peninsula for nearly three years.

Laila’s sister said she should be grateful that Prince Tariq was a soldier. A solider was often away from home. She wouldn’t have to suffer him every day of her life.

Alone in the massive, domed-ceiling room, Laila was restless, pacing as she tried to calm her nerves. The mosaic-tile floor was cool under her feet. White marble pillars gleamed in all four corners, while a dripping-gold chandelier glowed overhead with yellow candlelight, throwing flickering shadows on the gilded walls and the gauzy, white bed curtains.

The large door swung open behind her, and her stomach clenched to a hard pit. He was here. Her ordeal had begun.

“Your Highness?” came a soft, female voice.

Laila whirled to see her aunt Dhelal, the woman who had raised her since her mother’s assassination ten years ago. Relief flooded through her.

She allowed herself to hope that her new husband had changed his mind. Perhaps he’d sleep somewhere else, or spend the night with his comrades, sharing stories of bravery and heroism. Should he wish, he’d have no trouble finding a woman in the village that surrounded the palace.

A male servant silently followed her aunt inside the room. He placed a large, fabric-covered object on a table near the foot of the bed. Her aunt quickly and sharply dismissed him.

Laila waited for the older woman to speak.

“His Majesty knew this day would come.” Dhelal’s tone was much softer as she moved forward and took both Laila’s hands in hers.

Laila blinked away a sudden tear. She loved her father, and she understood his position, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of betrayal. Had there been no other way?

Dhelal gestured to the rich green-and-gold brocade cover. “This gift was carved from Royal Han marble, the rarest of the rare. It was crafted by Saleh walud Rahman walud Kunya Al-Fulan, right before his death. It has been blessed at the headwaters of the river. It will bring you luck, my child, good fortune in love.”

Laila couldn’t help a pained laugh at that. “It’s not working.”

“Give it time.”

“I don’t have time.”

Dhelal smiled in sympathy. “You have plenty of time.”

With a final squeeze of Laila’s hands, Dhelal removed the cover, revealing a sleek, carved figure of a woman, mounted on a gold pedestal, her heart etched in gold. The mauve, gold-veined marble reflected the soft candlelight, making the statue seem to glow. The woman’s expression was gentle, serene. Something about it eased the tension from Laila, and for the first time in three days, the cramp left her stomach. Her hand reached automatically out to touch the smooth stone.

The chamber door flew open with a smack. The doorway filled with the breadth of Prince Tariq.

“Leave us.” His guttural command to Dhelal was harsh.

“Do not—” Laila began in horror. But Dhelal’s hand on her arm stopped the protest.

“Good fortune,” Dhelal reminded her gently.

Or death, Laila thought, her gaze fixing on the imposing figure of the prince. She’d thought a lot about death these past days. But she knew if she killed herself, Tariq would demand one of her two sisters. Then again, if it was an accident. If she tripped and fell from a height or was swept away in the river, who could say her father hadn’t kept his side of the bargain?

Dhelal was gone and Tariq slammed the door.

“You are ready,” he stated. It wasn’t a question.

“I am not,” she dared, raising her chin.

“Remove your scarf.”

Laila hesitated. All women in Rayas wore flowing head scarves after puberty. They were mostly bright-colored and beautiful, denoting wealth and social status. In Laila’s case, the pattern conveyed her royal stature. It had been years since she’d removed it in front of a man.

What Tariq was asking was an intimate act, a prelude to everything she feared.

He took a menacing step forward, and she quickly complied with his demand, draping the white, silk garment around her neck. It was trimmed with a purple scroll pattern, laced with fine gold thread—the colors of the royal family.

“You are pretty,” Tariq noted, inspecting her as if she was an Andalusian mare in the royal stables.

He reached for her cheek, and she reflexively recoiled, taking a step back.

He immediately closed the gap between them. “Shall I punish you first?”

She mutely shook her head, nervousness turning to outright fear. She was at his mercy, and they both knew it. Not a single person in the palace would dare aid her.

He reached up again, brushing her cheek with his calloused fingertips. “You are soft.”

“You are not,” she responded, before she could think better of speaking.

“I am not,” he agreed, a wry smile barely quirking the corner of his slash of a mouth. It was the first time she’d seen him with his head bare, though she’d come to know his face well these past few days. That tiny smile was the first sign she’d seen of anything other than anger and distaste. He was tall, strong, his chin square, his skin dusky brown, and his dark eyes penetrating beneath a thick brow. The scar across one cheek said he was battle-hardened and uncompromising.

“Remember that,” he told her, before dropping his hand.

“I’m not likely to forget.”

“Good.” He reached for the top button of his tunic.

Sweat immediately prickled the goose bumps on her skin.